


When I Was Your Man

by xspica



Series: A study In Songs [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mollcroft, a very sappy mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:45:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspica/pseuds/xspica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked to the desk again, picking up a picture of her, “Is she happy?” He asked, pausing slightly, “Do you think ….. she looked happier than she had been with me?”</p><p>“Happiness is relative.” Anthea answered and waited for a reply, but when it became clear to her that this is the end of their conversation and a cue for her to leave. She turned and left for the door, when she stopped.</p><p>“Happiness is relative. It is also a choice.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Was Your Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [la_victoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victoire/gifts), [Wetislandinthenorthatlantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/gifts).



> A sequel to [The Last Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1581779)
> 
> I thank everyone for their very kind comments in the previous part of this series "The Last Time".
> 
> This is kind of like a sequel to the previous story. Well, I guess. OOC Mycroft is entirely my fault and I made him too sappy. I am sorry Mycroft, I did not mean to do this to you. But cough, a pining Mycroft is something I would want to see. I would like to thank La_Victoire and Wetislandinthenorthatlantic for their encouragement on both AO3 and Tumblr.
> 
> They were the ones who made me want to write the story anyway so it's only right to gift this to them. Thank you everybody for your comments as well, they make me motivated to write a follow up. 
> 
> I suppose there should be one more part to this series ?

* * *

_My pride, my ego, my needs and my selfish ways,_

_Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life,_

_Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made,_

_And it haunts me every time I close my eyes._

 

 _-_ “When I was Your Man” Bruno Mars

 

* * *

“Sir…” Anthea called out, but she hesitated, stopping midsentence, when she saw her boss sitting at his desk, shoulders slouched and his fingers massaging his temple. She has never seen Mycroft Holmes in such a bad state. He had such dark eye circles and eye bags below his eyes while his eyes held a haunted look. It was clear that once again, he hasn’t been sleeping enough or if he had been resting, his nightmares continued to torment him. But as soon as he realize that she was around, she saw his mask snap on and immediately, his face was a blank.

Void of emotions, void of the anguish she thought she saw.

He straightened his back as he sat up, his fingers steepled under his chin as he smiled at her, but Anthea could see that his eyes carried no hint of smile or joy, they remained as dead as could be.

 “Yes?” He asked her, his voice seemed normal, if not for the tiredness she could hear. Then his gaze shifted to the package she was holding in her hands. For a second, he froze, his eyes widening slightly. And all in a second’s time, he reverted back to his expressionless façade, but his voice betrayed him, wavering slightly as he asked, “Is that …. From Mol- I mean, Miss Hooper?”

He corrected, shifting uneasily in his seat, not that he was going to admit it, as he looked away from the package, pretending to be fiddling with his cufflinks.

He hadn’t seen her in months, well, not in person. But when one is the British Government, carrying out surveillance on a person is hardly any difficult. Though he knows that she will be highly upset to know that he is keeping a watch on her. But he misses her. And she clearly didn’t need or want him in her life anymore.

 _No more._ Her words echoed in his mind and he waved it away.

His eyes drifted to the pile of surveillance images that he have gotten. Pictures of her at work, pictures of her having lunch with an unidentified male, pictures of her smiling widely at people that are not him. He hadn’t seen her this happy in a while, maybe aside from the first two months of their relationship.

And after that, when he became increasingly ridden with work, her smile grew lesser and lesser.Even her eyes stopped lighting up with joy and delight when she saw him. It was replaced with another emotion, more like fear and apprehension. Like she didn’t know when he would step out of the doors again.

Did he really fail so badly? He thought, as he absentmindedly rubbed circles on her face in the pictures. His façade slipping, forgetting that Anthea was in the room. He did not like others to see him in his moments of weakness but exhaustion made it hard for him to concentrate and keep the mask up. These are all he had now, and though he continued to maintain the surveillance on her, he looked at the feed lesser and lesser, and he hasn’t cast a glance at the video feed once in the past week. He also requested his team to stop sending him the surveillance images.

An improvement, he would say, one that he needed badly so that he would stop ripping his heart out whenever he saw her face. If he had a heart. He sighed.

Anthea scrutinized him, narrowing her eyes a little and taking in the sight of what she would call a forlorn Mycroft that she would never have a chance to see again, before continuing on what she was here for.

“Dr. Hooper has entrusted this package to me and I believe that it is a gift that’s exactly,” Her eyes flicked to the calendar on the desk before continuing, “4 months overdue.” And she thought she saw him flinch at the mention of the date, but she pretended to not have noticed it. Mycroft Holmes does not flinch even when you point a gun at him, he _certainly_ did not flinch at the mention of Christmas.

_Exactly 4 months ago was Christmas._

Not that it was a pleasant one for any of them with all those table slamming and undignified shouting, not to mention a conflict that quickly escalated to a point where even Mycroft was close to shouting himself. It was a disastrous situation.

But she knew that it was probably the worst for Mycroft in a way that she cannot begin to imagine. Even more unpleasant than having to have Christmas dinner with the obnoxious Sherlock Holmes while playing nice and enduring the insults that Sherlock threw every possible minute, or second.

Mycroft recomposed himself when he noticed that his mind had drifted away, chastising himself that he had allowed this. He really is slipping, isn’t he?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand as he stretched his other arm out to receive the package. And if Anthea had seen the slight tremor and hesitation in his hand as he reached out, she didn’t say a word about it. Sometimes, it is far more merciful to pretend that you don’t know when a person clearly doesn’t want to be found out.

His movements were slow and controlled, and when he held the package with gentle hands, he gave a silent sigh. He carefully unwrapped the package, as he took note of everything. It was very obvious that this was supposed to be his Christmas gift and from all the creases on the wrapping, he could tell that she had shelved it away hastily right after his departure. Probably didn’t think of passing it to him or had any intentions of giving it to him. So, what changed?

 _Oh._ _The unidentified male_.

Makes sense.

Makes sense.

He repeated in his mind, ignoring the nagging feeling in his heart that keeps tugging at him. When he had unwrapped the gift, he stared at it, wordless. It is the most well thought out gift he had ever received. It wasn’t expensive, but it was priceless. To him.  

He held it carefully, his fingers gently caressing the surface of the glass as he imagined Molly in a studio carefully shaping the tumbler and cursing silently when she got something wrong but her eyes determined. He smiled at the mental image, but he felt his heart died a little. No other glasses of his can be as precious as this. No other women would ever hold a candle to his Molly Hooper.

_But Molly Hopper is no more._

He placed the tumbler lightly on his desk, closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair.

“When is it?”

_When was she proposed to? When is the wedding? When? How long more till she belong to another man? How long more till she is no longer Molly Hooper?_

“Next spring” was the answer. Anthea kept quiet after that, unsure if she should leave now that whatever she was tasked to was done.

She was about to turn and leave when she heard him say, “I am a fool when it comes to matters of the heart. I fail to understand how it is possible to feel so much for someone who is not me. I don’t understand.” He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, his gaze seems further than ever.

“I was wrong.” He breathed, “My biggest mistake was to think that Molly would always be there, but I forgot, as generous as she is to me, her love is not infinite. Love is not a one way road, there can never be just taking and not giving. I made that mistake and I am paying for it now, isn’t it so?”

He placed a hand on his heart, something Molly always did whenever they met. He didn’t understood why at first, but then she explained to him with a smile.

“I find it hard to believe that you are in love with me. I truly do.” She looked at him shyly, “By doing this,” She placed a hand on his chest, lightly with a smile on her face, she gazed at him lovingly, “With your heart beating beneath my hand, I can be truly assured that it is you that’s here with me. It is not a dream. You do love me.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.

And now, he feels his heart beating beneath the warmth of his palm, but he feels as if it’s not there, as if that part of him is missing.

He looked to the desk again, picking up a picture of her, “Is she happy?” He asked, pausing slightly, “Do you think ….. she looked happier than she had been with me?”

“Happiness is relative.”

Anthea answered and waited for a reply, but when it became clear to her that this is the end of their conversation and a cue for her to leave. She turned and left for the door, when she stopped.

“Happiness is relative. It is also a choice.”

With that, she left.

 _“And I hope you are happy with your choice.”_ Mycroft thought as he stared at the picture. It’s too late to make amends, it’s too late. He should have done all the things he should have done, said the words he had to, when she was his.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a second draft. My first draft involved Sherlock being the one tasked to deliver the package and barging into the private room of Diogenes Club. But one OOC Holmes is enough, I don't think I can deal with another OOC Holmes. People would torch me for it. So I ended up with Anthea. 
> 
> I should have typed this up yesterday but good things come to people who wait, so I typed this up while I am out, drawing inspirations from the squirming kids who are all over the floor as I waited to collect my document. 
> 
> I do hope people enjoy it, despite Mycroft being so ................... sappy. 
> 
> I apologise once more for him.


End file.
